


Mental asylum

by DestielAutomaticShip



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 21:37:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15252543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestielAutomaticShip/pseuds/DestielAutomaticShip





	Mental asylum

**_Monday 9th November_ **

**_11:55am_ ** **_|Morning_ **

I see him every day. It used to just be a few times a week when I would wake up. Either he'd walk in or was already in the room. But now it's before, after and during the day. The dark blonde hair and vibrant green eyes appear in my mind at different points of the day and have become familiar.

He smiles at me on occasion but we never speak, just pass a few words like 'take this one first' or 'how are you today'. He's the only one who talks to me like I don't belong in here, unlike everyone else, he sees what no one else does. He's different.

My room is still the same; white walls, uncomfortable bed pressed against the wall, a single pink flower resting on a faded white dresser and windows with bars laced across them. Everything is very much the same.

A knock interrupts my writing and I set my journal on to the side of my white sleeved bed. "Yes," I say, adjusting how I'm sat and unconsciously moving my journal closer to me. The usual psychiatrist, Dr Williams, walks through the bolted door holding the usual smooth smile. "How are you feeling today Jimmy?" He asks combing a hand through his hair. My name isn't Jimmy, I know that now. I  _remember_ that now. The people who helped me get here did not believe I am sane enough to remember my own name and when they searched my vessel they found the name, Jimmy. Hence why I am referred to as 'Jimmy'.

My name's Castiel, I am an angel of the Lord. However since I'm supposedly not meant to exist, it's only human nature to choose not to see me for what I really am. I cannot use my powers, which can become a struggle, but no one can know I'm here. Not heaven, not my brothers and sisters, no one must know.

"I am fine," I answer, watching the psychiatrist as he takes a seat across from where I'm sat on the white bed. Dr Williams is a young man who always looks perpetually concerned; he is unbelievably kind and compassionate, he has a small family- housewife mother, fighting father and obedient brother. I've picked up on the things he unconsciously does when in my presences. He is always pushing his brown hair from his face and always starts with the same question, never comparing me to anyone he's seen before.

The man runs through the usual routine of questions: do you feel like hurting yourself, how are you sleeping, how is your mood compared to when you arrived. I reply to each question as usual. "No, sleeping is uncomfortable and I feel fine."

Dr.S.Williams -as it is printed on his badge- nods writing scribbles across his notebook. "Have you been writing in your journal?" He asks, keeping his eyes on his brown notebook and I cautiously slide the book underneath me, wearily optimistic that he will want to read it. "No," I answer, sliding the book further away from him.

He once again nods, bringing his attention to me, showing the kind expression in his bright hazel eyes. "Okay, so I'm going to up your lithium dose and remove the abilify." He tells me. I believe they think I have some form of depression, although I was admitted with a disease known as schizophrenia. The drugs can become irritating as the lithium drains my body, forcing me into an oblivious state, yet my mind remains fully functional as it only affects my vessel. It's the same as being intoxicated I become mostly physically unable.

The psychiatric nods sending me a kind smile before standing up to his full 6'5 and leaving the pale room. The only trace of him being a piece of paper showing my drug schedule and a note 'don't worry, your journal will stay private'. 

_**12:20pm|Afternoon** _

Lunchtime. Pizza is being served today so everyone is in good spirits. I do not finish my meal as the doctors see it as progress which just means me being labelled as 'mentally stable' and being kicked out of here, exposed to heaven.

After mere seconds of the helpers trying to persuade me to eat the rest of my food, I am taken to a brightly painted room consumed by scales and weight or dieting charts. The nurses poke and weigh my vessel, checking it's vital signs. They tell me what I already know, that my vessel is healthy, and direct me back to my room.

I pick up my journal and I sit on my newly changed bed sheets, waiting for the clock to tick,  _just ten more minutes until one_ and I will see him again. There is something that draws my being towards his, his every fibre intrigues me and I can't help but want to stare at him, to study him, to know him.

I replace my journal with my book. The term 'my book' still sounds unusual, it appeared to me overnight, no notes, no one looking for it, it simply appeared on my bed and became mine. I flick through the pages reading the words and tracing the paper along my fingers to pass time.

The click of the familiar trolley wheels grab my attention and I stand up from my bed. I lean my head out of the open door to see where the noise is coming from and see the back of the trolley slide into the room next to me. I walk back to my bed pick my book back up, waiting for the green-eyed man.

A knock on my door frame sounds and I glance upwards to see a well-known face. "So off the abilify?" He asks dragging the trolley in behind him. I glance at him, adoring his features. "Apparently so," I say re-reading a sentence in my book. There's silence for a while and a couple of mumbles leave his mouth, I hear footsteps but not the clatter of the trolley I usually hear. I lift my head and see him standing beside my bed looking at me. I tilt my head and he chuckles. "I have to give you these pills myself." He gestures to the individual pill containers sitting in the trolley. I nod and lay my book down as I turn my body so my legs are dangling off the bed. "Okay." 

I wait for him to sort out the medicine and look around the room to past the time. "Well, mazeltov." He hands me a small plastic cup with a blue pill at the bottom of it, I tip the cup to my mouth and play with the blue pill flicking it around with my tongue.

After a matter of seconds, the pill starts dissolving from my saliva and I plead that he will hurry with my drink so I can get rid of the revolting atom taste. He hands me yet another plastic cup, this one full with water. I gulp it down swallowing the dissolved pill and I'm left with a dry taste in my mouth. I scrunch up my eyes in disgust.

He then hands me another pill and some water. I place the pill in my mouth and chug some water, however, I am unable to swallow it and it stays in my mouth. "What's wrong?" He asks. I point to my mouth since the tablets liquid has melted in my mouth. "Cant swallow?" He asks lifting his eyebrow, amused. The corner of my mouth twitches into a smile as I register his innuendo. He refills my water and I take another sip, this time swallowing the pill. "Whats your name?" I squint my eyes at him while he casually replaces the medicine and re-orders them.

"Jim-"

"No your real name."

I stare at him in disbelief,  _no one ever asks me that_ _._  I take into consideration he could be mocking me before I answer and scan his face looking for any trace of amusement. "It's Castiel."

"Good." He smiles and begins looking me over like I'm some sort of jigsaw puzzle. I squint at him for a while studying his face, gliding my eyes from his perfectly sculptured jaw along to his flawlessly imprinted lips. "Why is it good?" I ask licking my own dry lips.

He raises his eyebrows obviously amused by what I have said but doesn't answer my question, instead, he leans against the cart and continues staring at me. "What's your name?" I ask. He blinks at me for a while clearly not expecting the question before answering with a smirk making my vessel mimic his mood with a smile. "Dean."

I bite the inside of my cheek pondering over the name, imagining how it would sound on my tongue and in my tone of voice, how different it would sound compared to the way Dean says it. He smiles once again and that's when I see it. His soul. It's so bright, almost like an angels grace, the same vibrant green as his eyes with hints of hazel brown near the middle to reflect his personality.

"Beautiful." I murmur to myself completely entranced by the calm aura he is sending out.

I sit dazed, a small smile ghosting on my lips. It doesn't go unnoticed and Dean looks up at me with a genuinely  _beautiful_  smile. "You alright there buddy, looking a bit out of it." He asks putting a hand on my shoulder and fixating his eyes on mine. The touch is like fire and spreads all through my body making me feel numb from anything other than that touch.

I don't know why, or when it seemed like an appropriate or even reasonable thing to do, but somehow my vessel thought it was, and I find it and myself leaning in to close the space between me and Dean. He tenses for a while as we stare at each other both of our mouths staying in place. I go to move back so I can apologize for what I'm currently doing, however, when I try to he sighs, capturing my lips and his eyes flutter closed.

I take the time to appreciate his eyes and how even closed they are truly magnificent. His eyelids are slightly lighter than the rest of his skin, his long chestnut brown eyelashes curve perfectly and his skin glows with practically zero effort.

However, I hardly get time to sincerely look at them since Dean begins moving his lips against mine, sending a prickling sensation across them, forcing my eyes shut. His hand moves to the back of my neck as my own lips move against his and I bring my hands to rest on his hips. The feeling is nice and his hands are gentle and warm on my skin.

Dean pulls back with his beautiful smile and looks me in the eyes. "Hi, Angel." He whispers. I stare at him in confusion and he continues to look back at me.

A flash of light bolts through the room like a lightning strike and I yelp in surprise, tightening my grip on Dean's shirt. Yet Dean barely flinches, at the most, he blinks quicker. "You need to wake up Cas, please wake up." He pulls me into a tight embrace as if he can't breathe unless he's holding onto me. "Wake up?" I ask trying to crane my neck so I can see him, but he only presses his face into the crook of my neck and holds on tighter. The light brightens by the second and my eyes strain to stay open. " _Please_ , wake up." Dean keeps murmuring into my ear until I can hear his voice echoing in my head. 

The room begins to vibrate so hard that I can see the ripples going through the objects in the room. My single flower resting on the faded white dresser falls to the floor, smashing the vase in the process and placing a screeching noise in the room to add to the loud humming of the vibrations. The white walls crack, showing the white light outside of this room and fall one by one. Everything falls or seems to rip itself into pieces until it's me and Dean floating in a bright white abyss. He releases me from his tight grip and moves to gaze upon me, keeping his hands on mine to not lose touch. "What's happening?" I ask, hoping for an answer from Dean. He smiles, wider this time, like a silent laugh. "I'm not leaving you Cas." He kisses my forehead and I lean into the touch, trying to savour it as much as possible.

Then he's gone, and I'm alone in the brightness. I stand and the room gets darker with each step I make until I find myself running towards some kind of invisible door. I stop running when I see what I was hoping for, a  _real_  door. I don't know what's behind it but I don't care, I run towards it and push it open.

++

"Cas, wake up." A voice echoes in my head and my eyes shoot open, showing a room that's strangely familiar. A patterned burgundy wallpaper covers the outline of the room and bits of paper and bookcases overlap the dark red. Books pile upon books over every available surface apart from the desk and chair in the middle of the room.

A warm figure is pressed into the side of me and I turn to see sandy blonde hair, ruffled and stuck up in different directions, pressed against my arm. "Dean?" I ask and wiggle my arm under the man's head. Glossy, green eyes peer up at me and I'm taken back by the thousands of memories rushing through my head.  _Heaven, Hell, Demons, Angels, The righteous man, Dean Winchester._ I gulp at the air and sit up, gripping onto Deans arm, with a grasp I tried not to make painful. "Cas? You alright?" Deans voice sounds tired and I spin to face him, feeling the frown form on my face. "I'm fine, are you okay?" I examine his body for any injuries and then scan his face. "I'm good Cas." He smiles a genuine smile and I sigh in relief.

Sam enters the room, in his usual plaid shirt and blue jeans, with a gun in hand. "Dean?" He calls and sighs in relief when he sees me. "Good to have you back Cas." He says and looks from Dean to me and back again. "I'll just go get some food," Sam announces and steps out of the room. Dean stays in his place on the floor beside the couch and stares at me, almost marvelling at my vessel. I glance back down at him and an image flashes into my mind of the 'Dean' from my imagination and my breathing halts. "Welcome back Angel." He grins and pulls me into a tight hug. I pull him into my chest just as hard, relishing in the warm feeling. "Dean, may I try something?" I request and lean back, far enough to be able to see his face but not far enough to be comfortable. He nods, a serious expression spreading across his face and I lean in.

Our lips touch for a second before I pull back and try to catch his eyes. But both are shut and he pulls my neck down to capture my lips again, in a deeper and longer kiss. "You-" Dean tries to catch his breath. "You can try that any time you want." He says breathlessly and kisses me one last time before pulling back with a grin. "But I could really do with some food."

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